Just a Bar
by QueenUnknown
Summary: These are characters from ouat, I do not own them. It's a story where Regina is a single mother, to Henry who is six. She works as a bartender, goes to school. Etc. This jerk goes to the restaurant she works at daily. Each has a past. What will happen next. Who knows. Rated M


These are characters from ouat, I do not own them. It's a story where Regina is a single mother, to Henry who is six. She works as a bartender, goes to school. Etc. This "jerk" goes to the restaurant she works at daily. Each has a past. What will happen next. Who knows. Everyone has a story. Rated M

 **Chapter one**

Out of all the days for Henry to be sick, he had to pick today. Why today? She was already running late and it's friday. The busiest day at the grill. Sometimes she wondered if going back to college had been the right decision. A six year old, bartending at night, and college. . .

Double stepping her way through the front door, she made her way to the office.

"Sorry I'm late."

"It's fine girl, we've all been there, plus you've never been late before."

"I know, Henry just had to throw up everywhere, right before I had to leave."

"I guess I should warn you now then G."

"What is it?"

"He's here."

"He, he?"

"Yep!"

"For heaven's sake isn't there one day when he doesn't come, I could use a break."

"Well at least he is good looking."

If she had to find the right words to describe his physical appearance she'd use scruffy, breathtaking, and gorgeous. Like having an orgasm after years of faking one. The last one something she'd keep to herself of course. That obnoxious attitude of his on the other hand, a mixture of Freddy Krueger and Jeepers Creepers. She's the only one brave enough to tango with his demon of an attitude.

"Well well what a nice surprise."

"Not today."

"Someone's moody."

"Nope, just don't feel like dealing with assholes."

"Now now I could use a million words to describe myself but arse hole is not one of them my love."

"Then don't give me hell and I won't use that word to describe you."

"Why don't you just do your job, and pour me my beer."

She rolled her eyes at him, but turned around and poured it anyway.

"Your drawer is ready dear."

"Thanks Mal."

"You know you can always kick him out G, your bar your rules."

"We all have a story Mal, I don't think he was born an asshole, plus most of the night he sits there quietly, working. Every now and then saying something sarcastic, nothing I can't handle."

She continued pouring the beer, the glass so cold it kept foaming so it was taking a bit longer.

"If you're going to talk about me, could you at least say it loud enough so that I can hear you. You know so I can defend myself."

"Oh? I'm just telling Mal how much of a douchebag you are."

"While you're at it, why don't you tell her how clumsy you are? Breaking at least 3 mugs a night."

She could feel her face turning fire red. The burning of the words she wanted to say lay in the back of her throat. She would have let him have it, told him maybe he needed sex, maybe he was sexually frustrated and felt the need to be rude to women. Maybe tell him that it was no wonder he was always alone, with his grumpy attitude no one could stand being near him. Luck for him, two regulars came in. He should thank his lucky stars. The rest of the night went as smoothly as it could for a friday night. The usuals,heating husband with his girl of the night, the couple who argues over everything but choose not to get a divorce because of the kids, the loud mouth drunk, the martini lady one the hunt for her new millionaire victim. Little by little they were all calling it a night. She made her way to the phone to check on Henry.

"Hi baby."

"Hi mama."

"How's my prince?"

"Better, but mama I don't like chicken soup."

"OH? Is aunt emma making you eat chicken soup"

"Yes but momma can you come home, I miss you, and you can help me feel better."

"I know baby, momma misses you too, I'll be home before you know it. Son I have to go."

"Goodnight momma."

"Henry."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"Me too momma."

He was about to say something smart. Something to push her buttons. To make her red in the face. He loved to see her vain force its way through her forehead, or the way her eyebrows curved inward around her chocolate eyes. His lips starting to form for the first word, when he stopped himself. He hard something odd. It started low, almost muffled. Was she crying? In a year of dining here, he had never seen her cry. He pushed the knot that had started to form in his throat.

"My check."

He was hoping she'd turn around. Instead she pushed it behind her and waited for him to take it. He pulled cash out of his wallet, but before placing it on the receipt he decided to leave a note. He quietly stepped out, trying not to bother her. She waited for him to say something rude she turned around but he was gone. One the receipt a note that read.

"You're right, I wasn't born an arse, the extra money? Don't think it's because I feel sorry for you. Your son on the other hand, poor child. Chicken soup? That torture. By him clam chowder instead, now that heaven."

-R.L.


End file.
